


High Impact Defense

by RedTeamShark



Series: With My Little Eye [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Gen, Gun Violence, Merc Bromance, Mercenaries, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The jobs are simple, well-paying, and usually boring. But when the spies start turning up more frequently, the ‘boring’ part goes out the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Impact Defense

Geoff hung up the phone, settling back in his chair and sighing. The pay was good and the jobs were normally simple guns-for-hire stuff, but lately things had been edging out of his comfort zone. Like two weeks ago, with Michael getting knocked unconscious while on what was supposed to be a routine patrol. He was hesitant to clear him to go back to work, even though both Michael and the doctor said he was fine for it.

Last week had turned into a complete clusterfuck, and Geoff wasn’t willing to risk losing any of his team over something like that. He had the best in the business, each man completely irreplaceable. Even Michael and Gavin, the newest people on his payroll, had quickly proven themselves to be perfect for the team.

All the shit with these spies, though.

The only person who might have come close to even _seeing_ one of them was Michael, and he could barely remember the evening thanks to the blow to the back of the neck. Geoff and Jack had discussed it over beers, trying to figure out why the infiltrators had decided to go non-lethal. There had to be a reason, and if he could understand it, he could use it. He could turn a disadvantage into an advantage and take the fuckers down.

Drawing a bottle of whiskey from his desk drawer, the tattooed mercenary poured himself a shot. He downed it quickly, scrubbing his hands against his stubbled cheeks and calling in his team.

It was time to go to work.

–

“Routine as usual, guys.” Geoff stated, looking at his assembled ‘troops.’ Jack was already programming the building’s security network into his helmet’s complicated heads-up display, and he let out a soft exclamation of ‘set’ when the cameras finally began to play on the inside of his visor. “We’ll run standard patrols in the halls, extra check at the terminals. With all the bullshit lately we’ve been in high demand, so let’s earn our paychecks.”

“Yes, sir.” The other three answered quickly, with much less sarcasm than usual. Whoever was working against them was good, they all knew it, and their continued ability to earn money doing this was on the line if they didn’t stop the assholes.

“Remember, watch your six. It’s a big building, so everyone’s on their own.” With nods around, the four mercenaries left their staging area, beginning their patrols of the building.

Michael kept his attention sharp, gun at the ready for the slightest noise. He wasn’t going to be caught off-guard again, not if he could help it, he was _better_ than that and—

“Hi, Michael.” The curly-haired mercenary spun around, almost firing blindly even as it registered that it was just Gavin—the way he pronounced his name ‘my cool’ definitely gave it away. Instead he glared, pushing the visor of his helmet up slightly to get the expression across more effectively.

“Asshole, I almost shot you. What are you doing over here, anyways?”

“Just wanted to see my boy. Come on, Team Nice Dynamite?” Gavin grinned, holding up his hand for a fist-bump.

Michael rolled his eyes, but obliged anyways, the pair completing their ‘handshake’: a thumbs-up that led into a fist-bump, ending with their hands exploding away from each other, exaggerating ‘explosion’ sound-effects leaving their lips. By the time they were finished, both were grinning like idiots.

“Team Nice Dynamite, Michael.” Gavin nearly squealed with excitement, bouncing up and down slightly.

“Team Nice Dynamite, Gavin my boy.” Michael agreed heartily. “Now let’s get back to work before Ge—“

“Hey, get back to work before I come over there and kick you both in the dick!” Geoff’s voice over their radios cut them off, making both laugh. Gavin waved, turning away and going back to his patrol. Michael shook his head slightly, muttering an affirmative to his boss and resuming his own patrol. He and Gavin had hit it off right away when they’d joined Geoff’s squad and they always had each other’s backs. Even if they acted like idiots sometimes, they still were experts on the job. It was nice to have Gavin back, Michael mused. He hadn’t felt the same without the British mercenary by his side.

“Bravo Sector, heads up. We just had a camera go dark.” Jack’s voice came over the radio, and Michael tensed. He was the closest one to Bravo. If those damn spies were back…

“Checking it out right now.” He called back, taking a deep breath and putting himself on high alert. He began to search the area, the sounds of machinery and his own footsteps fading away, leaving him fully aware of his surroundings.

Michael stepped into the terminal room, noticing the darkness around the computer that hadn’t been there before. The only light source was the screen, displaying lines of code—the screen that had been off last time he’d checked in. “We have enemy activity in Bravo Sector.” He muttered into his radio, stepping closer to the terminal. “Looks like they were in the middle of something when I walked in.”

“Keep your guard up, Michael. I’m on my way down to reset the station.” Jack’s voice came back over the radio. The bearded man was their technical expert, which usually meant being able to wire into any security system in existence and using it to their advantage. With the hackings lately, he’d also been able to reset the computers they were protecting, preventing any information from being stolen.

Jack joined him in a matter of seconds, efficiently resetting the computer terminal’s security protocols. “That should keep the little fuckers out.” He nodded, lifting his gun and looking around. “They’re getting in without pinging on the cameras… Whoever these people are, they’re good.”

“We’re better, though.” Michael grinned, nodding slightly. “I’ve got this area on lockdown. Better get back to your patrol.”

Exchanging nods, the two mercenaries parted ways.

–

It was a long night, and Geoff found himself fighting yawns as he headed back to the small office he rented out. Really nothing more than a three-bedroom apartment, but it served its purpose. The small kitchen and living room were great for relaxing after missions. One of the bedrooms had been converted into an office for Geoff, a place for him to keep track of the work they did. Another bedroom held their briefing room, all the information they needed to go over after accepting a job but before actually going to the location. The last bedroom had been fitted into an equipment room, complete with lockers for each member of the team and a gun safe.

The night had been hectic, the four of them kept running back and forth as security systems were set off, resetting terminal securities. As far as Geoff could tell, they’d managed to keep them from getting anything from a single terminal—a sure bonus to the already hefty pay for the nights work.

Now the four of them stood in the locker room, everyone checking their guns into Michael, changing out of their work clothes and into more casual garments. Gavin pulled a t-shirt over his head, stretching out and slamming his locker, offering Geoff a grin. “Nothing like a good night’s work, huh, boss?”

Geoff started, brought out of his thoughts by the question. He gave the Brit a nod, grinning and clapping him on the back. “Yeah, nothing like it…” He agreed, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder for a moment. Just like Michael, he was glad to have Gavin back full-time. The trip he’d just taken back to the UK had been well-earned, but he’d still missed his youngest employee.

Something bothered him, though. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

As with most of his conclusions about life, he came to it drunk.

After everyone else had left, Geoff had gone into his office, taking the whiskey from his drawer again and pouring himself two shots, drinking them in quick succession. He should go home, too, relax and wait for the latest job’s pay to clear so he could do something nice for his family. But unlike his team, Geoff found himself having a hard time ‘turning off’ from work. He loved his family, his wife and daughter, more than anything else in the world, would take a bullet for them with no hesitation, but he _liked_ his job. He liked the thrill of never being sure, of having to constantly be on-guard. It was why he’d joined the military right out of high school, wanting that thrill of not knowing if he’d hear the bullet that took him out. In a turn of events that everyone else called lucky and he called stupid, he’d been a member of the military for the only four years in recent history there hadn’t been a war on.

The mercenaries business had come about as a way to claim that ‘any moment could be my last’ feeling and he’d been truly lucky to find a team that worked well together. He’d seen other groups ripped apart by mistrust, but his team all trusted each other implicitly. There was no questioning anyone’s loyalty, ever. There was no need, they knew each other like brothers.

What _was_ it that bothered him about the night’s work, though?

And suddenly, standing in his office, further into the bottle than he’d ever intended to be, Geoff knew. The slight swaying he’d been doing on his feet stopped, the bottle being set firmly on his desk as he moved to grip the edges of the mahogany behemoth.

They were sloppy.

He’d spent the past two weeks with Michael and Jack, chasing their tails trying to stop the enemy from getting into the computer terminals. Every time, they were at least one step behind. Michael getting knocked out at an already-compromised terminal that first night. The distraction that had left them suspecting activity at the other end of the building, and then when things _had_ been active there, they’d been running around blind in the completely wrong area. The spies had been running circles around them for a fortnight.

And suddenly they weren’t anymore.

It was Gavin’s first night back on the job. Had the presence of a fourth man thrown them off their game? Were they dealing with completely different people? Was it the same group, getting cocky and getting messy as a result?

Geoff was almost positive that all the information they’d been hired to protect had been protected—a sharp change from the previous weeks’ pattern. It was a great change, a change in his favor, but it left him uneasy. It wasn’t just adding a fourth man back to his squad, there was something more to it, something he was missing.

Geoff didn’t like being left out of the loop like that.

It made him uneasy.

Putting the bottle away again, he shrugged into his jacket. He could worry about it later, right now he had a family to see.

Locking up the small office, Geoff headed for home.

–

“We done good tonight, boy.” Michael grinned around his beer, flopping onto the couch next to Gavin, letting the sandy-haired mercenary lay against his shoulder. “We done real good. They were fuckin’… off their game or somethin’.”

“Or something.” Gavin agreed, yawning and scooting just a bit closer to Michael. His hand rested on the other male’s knee, and the curly-haired man looked down with a raised eyebrow.

“So are you comin’ on to me, or…?”

“Do you want me to be?” The question was asked with laughter, but Gavin didn’t move his hand. Instead he squeezed Michael’s knee, just slightly.

“Well.” Michael swallowed. They joked about gay stuff all the time, but was this still a joke? Alone in his apartment, with Gavin’s thumb rubbing slow circles on the inside of his leg, was it really a joke?

Gavin’s hand moved away then, reaching up to ruffle Michael’s hair teasingly. “Nah, man. I’m not into gingers.” He grinned, reaching forward and lifting his own beer from the coffee table.

“Prick.” But Michael laughed, waiting until Gavin had his beer almost to his mouth before clicking the bottom of his bottle onto the top of Gavin’s. The Brit’s eyes widened as he hurried to drink before foam could spill everywhere.

“You asshole!” Gavin cried around a mouthful of beer foam, getting up and rushing to the sink to spit it out. Michael cackled, looking over his shoulder as Gavin spit into the sink and took another drink (with much less foam this time) to clear his mouth out.

Finally relieved of foamy beer, the scrawny man made his way back to the couch, settling down and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Michael turned the TV on to the morning news, one arm settling over the back of the couch, his fingertips just brushing the side of Gavin’s neck.

Gavin glanced up at Michael, making sure the other man’s full attention was on the weather report before allowing himself a smile. He could have told all of them why the spies had seemed so disorganized that night, but where was the fun in that?

He still had a lot of work to do before he’d even consider explaining himself.

A lot of decisions to make, as well.

For the moment, however, Gavin was content to lean into Michael’s hand, drink beer, and watch the morning news. He’d stay over at the other man’s apartment, like he did most nights they worked, and the next day they’d do it again.

Idly, Gavin ran his finger over the neck of his beer bottle, wondering just how long he could keep this up. He didn’t have much of a choice in how long he _had_ to, his life for the next several years had been planned for him, every last detail, everything he was supposed to say and do (though truth be told, his decidedly awesome friendships with the members of the spy team known only as ‘6’ and the mercenaries officially titled the Hunters hadn’t exactly been in the plans). It really just became a question of when he’d get caught… hopefully not until he had a solid plan in place to disappear.


End file.
